


Earnestly

by vexterity



Category: Compilation of Final Fantasy VII, Final Fantasy VII, Final Fantasy VII Remake (Video Game 2020)
Genre: Eventual Smut, Fluff and Smut, Hurt/Comfort, Reader-Insert, Resolved Sexual Tension, gender neutral reader
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-25
Updated: 2020-06-17
Packaged: 2021-03-02 04:55:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 7,003
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23829469
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vexterity/pseuds/vexterity
Summary: Love-at-first-sight has Reno working against his usual behaviors in order to prove that his interest in you is long-term.
Relationships: Reno (Compilation of FFVII)/Reader
Comments: 83
Kudos: 304





	1. Night Encounter

Moving rhythmically in a dark club, you’re lost in a blur of bodies and colored lights. The floor beneath you vibrates from the music’s volume. You tip your head back, looking at nothing in particular, focusing on this one, simple moment; the sway of hips, the tickle of hair at your neck, the sweat gathering at your brow.

When you bring yourself down, your attention shifts to someone in the doorway. The sounds, flashes, and sensations of the room around you begin to fade, until it’s just that far-off pair of cerulean eyes on you.

Without hesitation, you walk forward, and they do the same. As you move closer, and so become more aware, your breath catches.

Before you is a man with wild, bright-red hair and skin like porcelain. His image consumes you, his lean figure cutting effortlessly through the crowd. Suddenly, you’re moving past him, hoping he’ll follow you into the lobby.

Here, the lighting is better, and the music is distant enough that you might hear each other speak.

Turning to face him, you feel drawn in again. There’s nothing in the hot air between your bodies, no string or unseen force tugging you nearer, but the feeling is undeniable. You’ve never felt this way toward a stranger. It’s not just that he’s attractive—you’ve seen plenty of attractive people tonight. No, it’s something intangible, and you can’t yet know it.

“Heya.” He starts simply. Self-confidence is clear in his clothes, expression, and even his voice, as it turns out.

“What's your name” You ask, looking him up and down slowly.

“Like what you see?” He chuckles. “Reno, and you?”

Without wasting any more time, you give him your name. He repeats it aloud, sounding delighted. It’s a gesture that, were you not already tinged pink from dancing, would've made you blush.

For a short while, you struggle to break the silence as he looks so lost in thought.

“You alright?” You ask.

“I’m good, yeah…” He trails off, looking almost coy, though you decide that can’t be. Those bright eyes pierce yours again. “I just have to know you.” He says resolutely, his voice low. 

“Huh. Does this routine usually work?” You tease with a small smile, though behind the facade, your heart beats frantically.

“I don’t have to play games to get what I want—it’s usually pretty easy. Much as I like playing...” He leans in with a knowing look, tilting his head just slightly. “—I’m not messing around.” His tone has grown rather serious, which surprises you.

Still uncertain as to what his intentions are, you watch him critically.

“Anyway, I’ll prove it to you.” He continues, taking the final step forward to close the distance between you. For a moment, you’re sure he’s inviting you in for a kiss. However, you’re left confused when his face halts just inches from yours. He turns to the side, retrieving a business card from his pocket. You fall back a bit, taking the card in hand and scanning over the information.

“Don’t forget about me, eh?” He says in a seductive lilt. Then he winks, spins around, and struts out the door. You’re left in awe.

Is this how he plans to prove his interest in you—by leaving to avoid a one-night thing? He doesn’t seem the patient sort, and yet, he’s just hoping you’ll call him someday? 

Luckily for him, you won’t forget. You’ve just added ‘Reno’ as a new contact on your phone, and you don’t plan on waiting long to call.


	2. Capricious Flame

His chest heaves with yours as you sacrifice oxygen for each others’ lips. Your hands are at the base of his neck, wrapped up in long, fiery locks of hair, sometimes guiding his head to change angles. The small sounds and quick breaths that accompany these shifts in position have you tense with longing. Even seated, his whole body moves fervently against yours, the motions perfectly fluid and natural. What wouldn’t you give to take this ‘dance’ further?

Now, the only light in your one-room apartment is the orange sunset, stripes of it slipping through the blind’s cracks and onto the floor. Noticing this, and partially for need of air, you reluctantly pull away from the redhead to turn on a nearby lamp. 

“Can’t believe it’s getting dark out already.” You say, laughing softly.

It was only last night you’d met Reno, and just as predicted, you’d contacted him at the soonest possible convenience. He’d been too intriguing to wait, not to mention that strange and addicting elation you felt around him. So, you invited him over. Well, you'd actually invited him out for coffee, but you'd gotten through about two sips before asking if he wanted to take the drinks to-go. While making out immediately upon entry had not been explicitly planned, you're not shocked by the outcome. 

_I mean, look at him,_ you think to yourself, eyeing the man next to you.

Moving closer to resume your position, you’re confused to see a rather stern expression contorting his features. 

“What’s up?” You ask, still a bit out of breath.

His lips part as though to speak, their plush and reddened state distracting you until he shuts his mouth again. 

“Hey, what’s bothering you?” You press, concern apparent in your tone.

“Is this what you want?” He asks, seafoam eyes searching yours.

 _Yes_ , you shout internally, _of course!_

His touch, his scent, the very air between you sparks with desire; the threat of catching fire under his hands is simply exhilarating.

“Isn't it obvious?” You try to sound nonchalant, but you’re sure your blush betrays you.

“I’m serious about this.” Reno says, and despite the conviction in his voice, he is obviously uncomfortable with making such a bold claim. 

“Damn, I don’t know how to do this.” He mutters, a hand running raggedly through the front of his hair. “We should, like, dial it back. Before it’s too late, ya know?”

“Too late?” You question, inching closer until the texture of his irises is clear to you. _Let me drown in them, won’t you?_ You plead silently. 

“I want you.” He manages, his gaze falling to the smirk at your lips.

“And...that’s a problem?” You ask, a brow quirked. He doesn’t answer.

Slipping your hands under the bottom hem of his shirt, you grab onto his hips, propping yourself up against him. He shudders. 

His long arms snake around your waist, pulling you onto his lap. Immediately, you press yourself against him in every way you can, your lips meeting with more urgency than earlier. As you run your tongue across his lower lip, he opens his mouth to you with a heady sigh that you swallow. 

Caught up in such a kiss, you can barely envision the stunning man beneath you: his toned limbs entwined with yours, those dazzling eyes and dangerous smile...

His exposed neck is particularly enticing. With a wandering fingertip, you glide along his jaw and down to the clavicle, laying a path for your mouth to follow. To begin the journey, you grasp his lower lip gently between your teeth, tugging it downward, then releasing it to move elsewhere. In the moment that his mouth is held open, a quiet moan escapes him. Thrilled, you grind against his lap, and his grip at your waist tightens. You kiss along his throat, and he’s practically vibrating from the pleasure of vulnerability. You decide to make a detour, dragging your tongue up to his ear. 

“Reno…” You whisper, and despite the delicious sound he gives you in response, something seems to break. 

He releases you suddenly, all but pushing you from him with a pained look.

“Gotta go.” He says plainly, jumping to his feet.

Before you can reach for him, or even ask what’s going on, the unpredictable man is exiting your apartment.

The door shuts and you're once again left dumbfounded. By the time you snap out of it, it's too late to chase him down. You lie back along the length of the couch with a heavy sigh.

“What is it with this guy and dramatic exits?”

Through the euphoric haze of having just been held by someone so beautiful, your chest aches subtly. You work to slow your breathing and concentrate, hoping to make some sense of his wild behavior. 

_All I can do is give him space, let him figure it out_... though you realize there’s a chance he won’t ever come back. 

Even reminding yourself that you've just met him does little to dull the pain of such a thought.


	3. Brief Repose

“Will that be all?” The cashier asks, placing the scone you’ve ordered into a small bag.

“Yes, thank you.” You say with a smile, before paying and taking the bag in hand.

You find a seat beside the storefront’s large windows. For a few moments, you watch the foot traffic outside. The weather is pleasant. Two lovers walk across the street, joined at the hand and hip. You hum to yourself, though the sound is less than contended.

It's not as though you'd expected to have a real relationship with Reno, but sex would've been nice. Your chest flutters at the thought of him. 

His flushed expression from last night comes to mind, as well as his words: _“I’m serious about this.”_

You lean back in your seat with a sigh. As things stand now, there’s little you can do. So, you reach into the bag for your scone.

Hardly a bite later, the phone in your pocket begins to ring. It’s a call from…’Red-Haired Hottie’.

“What?” You sound more peeved than you’d intended.

“Yo, this a bad time?” Reno responds warily.

“Last night wouldn’t’ve been a bad time.” You quip, hoping he catches the double-entendre. When he says nothing, you huff aloud. “Sorry. I’m just super confused.” You admit, standing as you prepare to leave the bakery. This is not the ideal location for such a chat.

“Me too.” His voice is quieter, like he’s talking to himself. He makes an odd noise, then continues. “Look, it’s not like I don’t wanna fuck.”

With wide eyes, you walk faster until you’re outside.

“So, what’s the deal?” You ask, thinking back to that hurt look he’d had before leaving. Or was it strained?

“Well normally, I screw around, have some fun. I'm a real troublemaker, you know.” He sounds smug, describing the man you’d first imagined he was.

“But when I saw you…” He proceeds slowly, perhaps choosing his next words more carefully. “Somethin’ felt different. I didn’t want one night.”

As is becoming usual, this wildfire of a man has caught you off-guard. You stop walking. The only word that leaves your mouth is “Oh.”

You refrain from saying—in a suggestive tone—that you’re down for as many nights as he’d like, because you’re not about to get on his bad side over a joke. That is, if he even has a bad side. 

“That’s why I had to leave. Was gettin’ tough taking it slow with you all over me.” He says with a snicker, pulling you from your thoughts.

“Shit, I had no idea.” You scold yourself for having read the situation so poorly.

“Don’t get me wrong! It was crazy hot.” He interjects quickly, the word ‘crazy’ coming out as an emphatic drawl. "Anyway...sorry. For bouncing like that."

“Was there something else you wanted to talk about?” You change the subject, rather nervous he’s only called to apologize.

“Yeah, actually.” He chuckles. “You wanna go on a date?” 

“Where to?” You're grinning.

“We never did get to dance.” His timbre has dropped to something more sultry.

“Mm.” You hum in agreement, understanding his invitation. “Tonight, then?”

“Tonight.”

Just like that, the phone call is over. Finally, you can eat your damn scone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone!  
> Thanks so much for the support, both here & on tumblr (@vexterity)  
> It's really helped motivate me to write.  
> I know these chapters are quite short, but that's just my style. I hope it's still worthwhile!  
> As a side-note, I'm loving the remake...I've taken SO many screencaps.  
> Let me know if you enjoy this story. There's more on the way :)


	4. Stagger Effect

The scene before you incites déjà vu. Colored lights tint your skin, and music vibrates the floor. Everyone moves independently, each person lost in their own way. You swim just as aimlessly amongst the chaotic tidal wave of bodies.

There is a notable difference, however, between this night and that one. When you meet a pair of cyan eyes from across the room, you know the man they belong to. Your heart races not for the unknown, but for the once known, and the soon-to-be-known-again.

Wordlessly, he approaches. Surely, if the music were not so loud, he’d have something to say. He always does. Body language will have to suffice, for now.

He’s dressed in leather pants that cling to his long legs and, most invitingly, lace up at the crotch. For a top, he wears a white dress shirt in the least professional manner, unless of course his profession were as a stripper. You can imagine that easily.

Reno’s invitation over the phone had been clear to you, despite his vague language. _“We never did get to dance.”_ He'd wanted to meet you here again.

Lithe arms reach around your waist, pulling you to him and from your thoughts. He smells of bright cologne and spearmint, though the finer notes are lost in this place. You inwardly curse that, wanting to breathe him in fully.

Seemingly pleased with your attention, Reno smirks, then leans in so that his lips graze your ear.

“C'mon, then.” His words make you shudder even in this heat.

It takes no further instruction to get you moving. With hands at your hips, he dances effortlessly with you. The music’s melody is like distant static now, only the beat remaining, echoing your thumping heart. Your body moves mostly on impulse as your mind floats somewhere way up high. The scene is wildly gratifying, and you wonder how you’d ever enjoyed the club before Reno.

Speaking of the sinfully attractive man grinding against you, he seems to be enjoying himself just as much. Those crystalline eyes have become transfixed in a way that exhilarates you. His smirk has fallen into something less pronounced and more ajar.

Over time, sweat gathers at his collarbone and the crease of his near-bare chest, glistening in a way that has you licking your bottom lip.

Once, his head had fallen back and his eyes shut. It took some thought to keep from nipping at his exposed neck. It took some thought to keep from pouncing him, if you’re being honest.

You circle around him until you’re at his back, keeping him in place with a firm hold of his shoulder. Curiosity getting the better of him, he begins to use some actual strength and face you, when suddenly he feels your sigh by the base of his neck.

“Reno.” You say his name without embellishment, though it is more than enough.

“Fuck.” He tsks, quickly spinning around, taking your hand in his and heading outside.

The night air is frigid and yet refreshing, not unlike the glare your favorite redhead’s giving you at the moment.

You back yourself up against a nearby wall, summoning him nearer with a haughty look. It’s one he wears frequently, and it's clear your similar mannerisms thrill him.

“C'mon, then.” You command him mockingly, and he obeys. One arm propped up over your head, the other tight around your waist; legs striped with yours, lips parted; you'll never forget this image.

In seconds, your tongue is tangled with his. You grab at his ass and he grunts, hips stuttering forward involuntarily—this you can tell from his exasperated expression.

“Damn, you teasin' me?!” He drawls with a half-grin, the hand that’s left your waist now scratching at the back of his own head.

“Mm.” You hum, your current expression mirroring his.

“So hot.” He says, and you both laugh. “But...gotta call it a night.” He continues, causing your smile to fade.

Knowing his feelings, you don’t protest.

“Right. See you, then.” You say simply, looking him up and down slowly, knowing he loves it. Just as you turn to begin your trek, he catches you by the hand.

“No, no. Let me walk ya home.” His voice is nonchalant, but his eyes look insistent.

“I'll have to invite you in.” You counter, gaze studying the laces that weave his pants shut. 

“I’ll have to resist the temptation.” His hand tightens around yours, likely out of arousal rather than affection, but you squeeze back anyway.

In the end, and much to your chagrin, he really just walks you home. After a less-than prudent kiss goodbye, once he's certain you want more, he leaves. All you can think to do is change his contact name on your phone.

_’Red-Haired Bastard’._


	5. Impetuous Charmer

“You’re here for Reno, right?” A man asks you, looking rather gloomy from behind a tall desk.

“Yes.” You confirm, and he nods once.

“It’ll probably be awhile. You can have a seat.”

Taking your pick of the waiting room couches, you lean back against the cool material with a sigh, eyes traveling to survey the area.

The far-off wall is entirely glass. Behind it, employees in fitted black suits can be seen walking to and fro. You're hoping Reno wears one of those.

The room is stark, with dark, looming walls and stone slab flooring. Though not well decorated, this place obviously belongs to a wealthy company. Strange technologies like you’ve never seen adorn every entrance, exit and corner. You’re still not certain how the doors here work, despite having walked through a few.

In fact, getting in here had been a miracle. Had Reno not informed his work of your visit, and had the employee some ten stories below not known to navigate you, you never would’ve made it. You wonder if that's on purpose.

The man at the desk looks bored already, chin resting on his knuckles as he scrolls through something on a nearby monitor. Feeling out of place, and if just to pass the time, you take out your phone to re-read the text conversation from this morning.

**Reno** : _Wanna see me in uniform? ;)_  
 **You** : _Hell yes_  
 _ **Reno** : How about tonight?_  
 **You** : _Sounds good_  
 **Reno** : _Meet me at work, I'm done at 7_

You have his work address from the business card he’d given you the first night you met, though it said nothing of what he actually did here. Thinking back to his club outfit, you suppress a grin. Any chance they're all strippers?

You eye the stern-faced man at the desk again. No way, you decide.

Before putting it away, you check the time on your phone: 7:08. Not super late, but you assume his coworker’s prediction of a long wait will be correct.

The rumbling of your stomach calls your attention downward. Catching sight of the take-out container in your lap, you smile. You’d almost forgotten about it.

On your way here, you’d stopped at the best deli in town, guessing Reno might be hungry.

Unfortunately, he's taking too long. So, you eat.

While enjoying your last bite of sandwich, another employee enters. To your surprise, it’s a woman. Everyone else you’ve come across has been male.

She assesses you quickly, then walks to her seated coworker with a questioning look.

“For Reno.” He explains succinctly, his tone indifferent. She scoffs at the mention of him.

Her expression shifts, however, when turning to face you again. Sympathy is clear there.

“You seem nice. Too nice for Reno.” She nearly spits his name, continuing too soon for you to interject. “I don’t mean to impose, but you shouldn’t expect much of him. He’s…” The woman pauses, searching for the right words. Without hesitation, the man supplies some.

“An asshole.”

She laughs, and he cracks a smile that fades just as soon.

“...Fickle.” She corrects, though it’s obvious the two are in agreement.

Shocked, you’re about to question them when Reno makes himself known.

“Talkin’ shit?” He chides them without so much as a glance, already walking toward you. His current smirk is earned, as you’re gawking.

Unlike the others, who look immaculate and professional, Reno has taken some liberties with his uniform. He’s forgone the tie altogether, his white button up more so a button down, because it’s undone to the very bottom of his muscled chest. His blazer and pants are noticeably slimmer than the others’. Those pointed-toe, black velvet shoes are designer, that much you know.

“ _Suits_ me, doesn’t it?” He cocks his head slightly, and you snap out of your stupor. The man behind Reno rolls his eyes. 

“Yeah.” Is all you say.

Then, you remember the sandwich again. “Oh, right.” You hold the container out to him.

Opening it, he stares rather intensely at the sub. You wonder if he’s allergic to gluten or something.

“You got this for me?” He sounds astonished.

“All yours. I already finished mine.”

He blinks away whatever he’d been thinking, shutting the box. “Thanks, I’ll eat on the way. I’m dyin’ to get outta here.” His smirk returns, and as the two of you head down the hall to the elevator, he waves the others goodbye without looking back.


	6. Palpable Uncertainty

“So, what’s the plan?” You ask, watching an electronic number decrease as the elevator descends. Reno had asked to meet you tonight, but that’s as far as the conversation went.

“Ah,” He leans effortlessly against one of the metal walls, arms folded over his chest. “I was thinking we could hangout, since we haven’t really yet. Wanna go to my place?”

His claim is not quite true. The opportunity to 'hangout' has come and gone before, it's just that the time was spent compulsively making out.

That mischievous gaze falls to you, though you remind yourself it’s his default expression, and not indicative of some ulterior motive. 

_”You shouldn’t expect much of him.”_

That woman’s conviction resounds. Both workers had seemed certain of Reno's character, and more worryingly, of its inadequacy. They must really dislike him, seeing as they went out of their way to deter a stranger. 

Of course, it's been clear from the start that Reno is the promiscuous sort. You harbor no romantic delusions for him; the goal has always been sex. Is that all, though? Has your motive shifted, or has it always been different from what you've admitted?

Silent still, you bury your apprehension for now. The knot in your stomach persists, and your body language must convey some of your discomfort, because Reno speaks up.

“Yo, you in there?” His question brings you back to reality, a long finger tapping your forehead jokingly. Your face warms at the contact. "Anyway, If you don't want to..." He continues, and you remember that he's invited you over.

“Yeah, no, I want to.” You nod, trying to ground yourself as the elevator halts with a _ding_ , signalling its arrival. The door slides away, revealing a parking garage. 

He nods, seemingly satisfied. You follow those long strides forward until he tosses his head to the side, guiding your attention to the vehicle next to him.

It's his, presumably: an all-black, fully-tinted coupe, lowered to the point of being flush with the concrete beneath it.

“Shit.” You say, wondering yet again what he does for work in order to afford such a car.

The thought of fucking in the backseat lingers like a daydream.

With arms crossed loosely behind his head, he flashes a wicked smile, certainly thinking the same.

“Just wait till you see my apartment.” His laugh relieves some of the tension from your shoulders.

“Alright, alright. C'mon, then!” You say, and he laughs again, the phrase not lost on him.

You climb into the passenger seat. It's practically level with the floor.

“Buckle up.” He teases from behind the wheel, making a ruckus of spinning the tires while backing out.

Against your expectations, the ride is smooth and driven at a near-legal speed.

It’s only unpleasant from a heavy silence you struggle to disrupt. Strangely, Reno's stayed quiet.

Conflicting arguments clash between your ears, and the tension creeps back into your body.

This man, in so many ways, resembles a flame. His wild and uninhibited dance draws you nearer; his light captivates you. However, you’re suspecting he can be as destructive as he is beautiful, and as chaotic as he is charming. Is it the danger of heartbreak that sparks enticingly in the space between you? Zooming through the night in a luxury car, with one of his hands resting just inches from yours, you’re growing increasingly afraid of being burned. Will the touch singe your fingertips, or will fire erupt, consuming all of your oxygen, then you, leaving nothing but ash behind?

Even if he’d truly been serious about you in the beginning, there’s no telling for how long that’d last. You shudder without noticing. His eyes flicker to you, full of worry, though you don’t notice that, either.

The car veers to the side of the road and he turns to face you. 

“I can drive ya home, if you’d rather.” He suggests, that hand finally moving to cover yours. To your relief, it's just warm. 

“No.” You respond quickly, fingers lifting to curl with his. “Sorry I’ve been spacing out. I’m okay.” In your current tone, it’s a less-than-convincing statement, but he accepts it and resumes the drive.

Soon, the car comes upon tall, wrought-iron gates. A portion pushes aside as he approaches, and he’s already smirking.

The buildings ahead are obtrusive, though much more posh than any apartment complex you’ve ever seen. There’s another underground parking garage, another elevator, and abruptly, you’re at the start of a long hallway with floor-length windows in the distance. The view of the city several flights below nearly takes your breath away.

He opens one of the hall’s doors and steps in, an arm outstretched in welcome.

You shake the sight and enter the suite, only to be shocked by this sight, too: it's the nicest apartment you've ever seen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello!  
> I hope you're all still enjoying this story. I love writing it!  
> If you're looking for more FF7 content, check out my tumblr @vexterity :)  
> Thank you for the kudos, comments, and bookmarks!  
> I'm new to AO3, and the support I've gotten here has really helped motivate me to write.  
> Look forward to more, soon!  
> \- Vex


	7. Ambivalence, Again

A cup of hot, dark liquid rests in your hold. Wisps of it cloud your vision as you sip. You’re surprised Reno had tea to offer, though you suppose he ought to have any and every beverage available to him with these lavish accommodations.

While he’s fixing himself a drink—coffee, by the smell of it—you examine the room once more.

Tall windows are encased by black, velvet curtains. Stone floors are warmed by one massive, high-pile rug, and the sectional sofa you’re seated at anchors it. In the center of the vaulted ceiling hangs a modern looking chandelier, its crystal fixtures refracting the dim light. Mirrors are a recurring element throughout. You find this fitting for a man like Reno, though it’s likely he had no involvement in designing the space.

The dip of the couch cushion signals his arrival. He’s sitting right beside you, despite there being two lounge chairs and the rest of the couch to choose from. The proximity has you feeling conflicted. For as much as he’s grown on you, doubt never trails far behind.

Nonetheless, you relax into the soft, suede sofa, thankful for the familiar drink.

“That sandwich was fantastic, by the way.” His remark causes you to quirk a brow. “I ate it while you were over here, zonin’ out again.” He chuckles, answering your unspoken question. _Ah, has it really been that long?_

“Glad you liked it. I just ordered two of what I normally get.”

He half-smiles, seemingly pleased with your similar tastes.

Soon, you’re discussing all sorts of common interests: food, music, movies. It’s easy to get lost in such conversation. The astounding chemistry between you has your chest fluttering in a pleasant way, your worry fading into the background.

Somehow, though, he stumbles into mentioning a shitty date from weeks ago. It takes awhile for him to notice your uneasy expression, but when he does, he drops the subject.

“Don’t say you’re fine, I’m not buyin’ it.” His tone is suddenly sharp.

It’s true that talk of his prior ‘dating’ habits has snapped you from your short-lived calm.

“Your coworkers really don’t like you.” You say, unsure of how better to summarize your thinking.

He remains silent.

_Whatever, I shouldn’t care what sort of guy he is. It’s obvious he gets around. We’ll never be serious._ Regardless of the many times you’ve had this thought, it hurts just the same.

When you pay him mind again, his demeanor has changed. You can’t quite determine the emotion he’s harboring.

He speaks up finally. “They’re not wrong about me.” Those cyan eyes look tired, and they won’t lift to meet yours. _It’s sadness,_ you realize.

“I’m a dick.” His following laughter sounds strained and insincere. “But I haven’t lied to you.” Slowly, he faces you. A hand pushes bits of red hair from his forehead with a sigh. You can tell he’s nervous from the barely-there pink surfacing on his cheeks.

“This is new for me...” He goes on, taking your hands in his. “I wanna try to be someone you deserve.”

The air between you has always been electric, but now, under warm hands and a hopeful gaze, you allow yourself to experience it wholly. He’s described the phenomenon exactly as you’ve felt it: magnetic and illogical, stupid and amazing. His declaration has changed your mind for a final time. Reno is worth it—the possible naivety, subsequent shame and heartbreak. No matter the outcome, Reno is worth the attempt, the work, and the aftermath.

Upon gathering yourself, you speak resolutely.

“Then, I don’t care what you were like before. I mean, like you said: this is new. We can figure it out together.”

The brilliant smile he gives you further solidifies your resolve. You can’t help but kiss it.


	8. Languid Hold

Your eyes open to an unfamiliar ceiling. Early-afternoon light dances patterns across it. With a sigh, you remember where you are: Reno’s bed. To your dismay, this is not a ‘morning after’ situation. It’s just you here, swathed in a thick duvet and with plenty of space left for him.

The two of you had talked until it was 4 in the morning, by when he was obviously exhausted. Perhaps too eagerly, you suggested staying the night. Once he agreed, things progressed differently from how you imagined they might.

“Pj’s are in that drawer—you can borrow whatever. The bathroom’s just over there.” He’d led you to his bedroom, motioned towards the aforementioned areas, and then turned to leave.

“Wait, where are you going?” You questioned him.

“To the couch, duh. You think I’m that easy?” You refrained from saying ‘yes’. With a hand at his hip, he gave you a wink and exited. 

As you’re recalling last night, you subconsciously pull the comforter upwards until it’s just under your chin. Perhaps the greatest discovery of this ‘sleepover’ is the wonderful comfort that his natural scent brings you. Before, you were able to catch only the most obvious notes: his brightly-fragranced cologne and the spearmint gum he chews prior to your dates. Here in this haven of his, the rest is revealed. There’s something warm like sunlight on a sandy beach, accompanied by a barely-there musk that you find most intriguing. 

Just when you’re hoping he’ll join you, there’s a knock at the bedroom door. You call for him to come in.

His red hair is askew from its normal styling, and the hair tie is absent. He wears only sweatpants, which you find both fitting and fortunate. He always appears a bit disheveled, but this particular look is a new favorite of yours. Your expression shows that clearly.

“Morning.” He starts, the current huskiness in his voice testing your patience. Once he’s close enough, you take hold of him, dragging him onto the bed.

“Took you long enough.” You chide, your arms wrapping around his waist. 

“Tsk.” In one motion, he swaps your positions so that he’s hovering above you, those long limbs keeping you in place. “Not today, either. Got it?” Seafoam-colored eyes glower down at you, though his lips form a mischievous smile.

“Sure, sure.” You agree, stretching out your neck in an attempt to kiss some part of him. He chuckles and releases you. You find the underside of his jaw and he nearly growls.

“Ya know, you’re making this damn difficult.” At your side now, he holds you tightly in a lopsided embrace. 

“I could say the same.” Turning, you nestle into his chest and inhale deeply.

The feeling of his heartbeat by your ear, his slowing breaths; his scent and taut limbs enveloping you; it is all heavenly. You hardly notice yourself falling asleep.

A loud ringing soon disrupts the perfect afternoon. He groans in annoyance and snatches the culprit from his pocket. Before answering the call, though, he darts out of the room.

It’s only seconds before he’s back, apparently having been eager to end that conversation. While you can pretty much piece together the situation, you await his explanation.

Another vexed sound leaves him. “Gotta go to work. I can drop you off on the way.”

“Oh.” You start, unable to keep the disappointment from your voice. “What even is your job?”

“It’s...complicated.” He says stiffly, avoiding your gaze. “Anyway, I feel a little bad I can’t offer you breakfast.” His smile is halfhearted, but he seems sincere in wanting to change the subject, so you don’t press further. 

“Wild. Offering someone breakfast.” He snickers and takes a step in your direction. “Only you.” A hand settles atop your head affectionately, but you’re busy worrying over that distant, bittersweet smile.


	9. Latent Shame

The object of your focus is yet another ceiling, though this one is familiar to you. The fan in its center spins at a leisurely pace, doing nothing to quell the heat in your tense chest. You can’t say exactly how long you’ve been lying on your living room floor, except that the sun is going down now.

The subject of Reno’s work has always been suspect to you, his behavior regarding it only worsening your worry. After he’d dropped you off, you spent your afternoon researching the place. Of course, nothing of substance was to be found. 

One obscure article claimed the company was a private law firm, kept secret by the money of some major power supplier. If that were the case, though, why might the building be so large? Certainly, one company should not require the exclusive service of so many lawyers.

Plus, you have a hard time imagining Reno as a lawyer. Lawyers can’t have their tits out on the job...right?

A tired huff of a laugh leaves you. Turning onto your side, you bring your cell phone into view, tapping the screen hurriedly.

 **You** : _Why can’t you tell me? I won’t tell anyone, I swear_

It’s a simple text, but you decide it’s enough. If he’s serious about you, he ought to trust you with this sort of thing, you think.

He doesn’t respond right away, which doesn’t concern you—he’s working, after all. So, you pick yourself up off the floor and go about the rest of your evening. 

That time passes you in a haze. It’s late in the night when your phone finally lights up with his name. 

**Reno** : _I know. But it’s dangerous._

You call him immediately, the mention of danger bothering you in a way you can’t explain. This whole relationship (if you can even call it that) has worked only by relying on gut instinct, so you aren’t about to stray from the feeling.

It rings, and your mind races to find a fitting answer. It rings and it rings, and nothing you’re considering makes any sense. Is it a matter of contract? You’re doubtful. From what he’s told you, legal repercussions mean little to him. Any illicit work you’re aware of would hardly cover his fanciful living arrangements, and does nothing to justify the company’s massive headquarters. Perhaps it’s government-related? That would explain a lot, except for the way he dresses. Thinking more critically, you realize that no government office you’ve been to has looked so modern. There just aren’t the resources to maintain places of that magnitude.

The phone stops ringing. You say his name aloud, and there’s only silence from the other end. He’s ignored your call.

 **You** : _Is this about your safety, or mine? Because I can handle myself._

When you see that he’s read the message, you call again, to no avail.

 **You** : _Reno, please understand. I have to know what I’m getting myself into here_

To this, he answers right away.

 **Reno** : _Maybe you shouldn’t be involved with me._

You jolt upright, your throat starting to burn uncomfortably. The look of shock upon your face physically hurts.

 **You** : _What are you saying?_

You call one more time, and when he doesn’t pick up, tears gather at the base of your eyes.

 **You** : _That’s it, then? I thought I meant more to you than that_

Choking back a sob, you struggle to send the message. There’s so much you want to say, but the words catch and tangle where your throat has closed up. Dropping the phone by your side, a hand moves to clutch uselessly at your chest. 

By accident and without warning, Reno has become important to you. It hardly matters anymore what his job is. That he’d sooner lose you than explain himself has your face and neck and chest damp from crying. 

You’d thought he felt it: that shift in reality, like time and space would bend between you. The electricity, the pull; the thrill and the comfort; how could he have felt those things in the way you had, only to then deny you with such ease? He couldn’t have, you decide. It must have only been you.

You sleep fitfully, not checking the phone again. He won’t reply. Your gut is sure of this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello!  
> This is a sad one :( So I'm posting a little early to get it out of the way, lol!  
> I know I keep saying it, but I've really enjoyed writing this. Sharing here, reading & interacting with your comments has made me so happy.  
> I never imagined people would enjoy my writing in this form, since I write/edit down as concisely as I can (it's just what I enjoy)  
> To receive compliments on my style despite this is like a dream.  
> I hope the rest of this work will satisfy you slow-burn fans!  
> Please look forward to more :)  
> \- Vex


	10. Time Lapse

_ Tick. Tick. Tick _ . 

The wall clock to your right is incessant and distracting. You bolt from your seat with an agitated huff, removing the batteries and then hanging it back up. Though you have your cell phone to keep track of the time, checking the device has caused you unwarranted stress lately. You do it anyway.

4:16 PM. No message from Reno. No surprise there. 

Your attention returns to the magazine in your lap, but soon, the words begin to blur together in shallow waves. Your eyelids flutter shut along with the pages.

It’s been a week since you’ve last heard from him. In that time, you’ve tried to accept what happened, though your hurt is undeniable. How had you grown accustomed to a relationship which had not been defined, and in so short a time? How had you ended up falling for him, despite your initial intention? And how will you move on, when just the thought of him warms your core, chills your skin, and totally disrupts your thinking? 

Of course, that initial intent remains; there’s remorse in having not fucked the ridiculously hot redhead. But in his absence, you’ve come to understand the complexity of your feelings toward him, only worsening your own grief.

Last night, you’d gone back to your favorite club. The music was good as ever, you looked smashing, and an attractive newcomer had shown obvious interest in you. Somehow, none of it mattered. It wasn’t Reno’s slick skin pressed with yours, nor his lilting drawl at your ear. If it wasn’t his smile, you hardly wanted to share in it at all. 

In short, you hadn’t taken anyone home. That was for the best. By the end of the night, you were a mess of emotion: annoyance, confusion, and most infuriatingly, sadness.

He was just one guy.

A really good looking guy. Sure, it wasn’t everyday you met one with spiky red hair, ocean-green eyes, and a fanged smirk. And yeah, his touch made you feel both weaker and stronger than any other before. And the way he spoke, with such confidence and blatancy — it’d been incredibly refreshing. He listened to you like you were the most exciting aspect of his mysterious and presumably thrilling life. 

But he’s just one guy!

A guy who’d been strange from the start, repeatedly rousing you only to bolt off. A guy whose bad reputation seemed to precede him. The same guy whose undisclosed job at a secret company apparently put him, and maybe even you, in danger. The guy whose only goodbye to you had been a vague text message. 

What a guy. 

_ Knock. Knock. Knock. _

You wake to the sound, glare fixed at the front door of your apartment. Your first thought is that it must be a delivery. Your second is that deliveries go to the ground floor mail room. Who could have entered your apartment building, gained access to the elevator, and made their way to your door out of the many lining this hall?

The knocking continues, so you walk over to appease your curiosity, though not without caution. A hand traces over the short dagger concealed at your thigh. From the door’s peephole, you see someone you sort of do want to slash at: Reno.

Wordlessly, you yank the door open. An expression of hatred hides your true feelings. His body tenses, and you notice he looks rather sickly. While the sight pains you, you ignore it, slamming the door shut. 

You watch through the door, waiting for him to leave, but he doesn’t. 

After a minute of silence, he turns like he’s about to go, but instead moves to sit with his back against the door. For a long while, you mirror each other like this, wondering when the other will cave in. Then your phone lights up on the couch.

**Reno** : _ It’s because you mean something to me that I didn’t tell you. _

The door remains closed, so he texts again.

**Reno** :  _ But I’ll tell you now, because this week fucking sucked. _

When the door opens, he stumbles back a bit before turning to face you. Those seafoam-green eyes lack their usual glimmer. You wonder if yours look the same. You step to the side, allowing him entrance.


End file.
